


Toccare

by Anyanka77



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Death, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Loss, Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 21:10:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1702634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anyanka77/pseuds/Anyanka77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She keeps and eye on him and thinks he needs to see someone like her. Hopefully this girl can fix him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toccare

**Author's Note:**

> I am not entirely sure what this is. I wanted to write something with no proper names. It was written picturing the characters listed, but it could be anyone really. I hope someone enjoys it, it was just an odd one off that needed out of my head.

Everything was oddly warm yet dark. She could hear only her breath through the gently whooshing white noise, faint and shallow. Then she felt it, a familiar cool hand splaying across the top of her chest, collarbone to collarbone across her sternum. Somewhere far away in the gently thrumming silence she heard three words forming, deep and low.

 

“Stay with me.”

 

She truly wished she could as the last of her will and breath left her body.

 

* * *

Thoughts roiled and raged in his head, a never ending bubbling fire that would spread out from the source in thick heated waves throughout his body. He shot up from the couch and began to pace. The fire dancing in him with each step. Movement was not quenching the liquid hot flames. Without something to break them apart and spread them out, make them useful, they just pulsed and throbbed in every pore, every vein. Every beat of his heart sending them pulsing about to the point of madness. He needed something, anything to dull the heat.

 

There was someone at the door, he could hear their breath on the periphery of his molten thoughts.

 

“Why are you here?”

 

“Always so happy to see me. I require your assistance.”

 

“Leave.” The words were a fog, nothing solid, but enough for him to know he didn’t want to help his brother.

 

“You can’t pace and seethe in your dressing gown forever. This will help you.” He was vaguely aware of the folder now in his hands. Idly flipping through it and seeing things start to focus, the fire lapping back.

 

“Fine. Leave.” Left alone, he was able to focus the unending stream of thought into the case at hand. It would be enough, for now.

 

* * *

She would always keep an eye on him, from a safe distance. She wasn’t sure what it was. It wasn’t love, her mind and heart didn’t sway that way. It wasn’t obsession that was something far too complexly simplistic for what this was. She just needed to know he was there. Almost worried about him. Almost.

 

When she could see the pain, the itch, the fire pushing toward an inevitable slide into addiction to calm everything, she took action.

 

Staring at the plain black card in her hand, unsure if this would help, but sensing deep down that it would. She ran a finger over the slightly raised black on black letters. Il Servizio. If she couldn’t help. Maybe they could. They were discreet and catered to anything someone could want. She wrote a brief note. “They will help. Find a girl.”

 

She slipped the card and note to the messenger and paid him handsomely for his silence.

 

They have to help.

 

* * *

Too many easy solutions, nothing challenging, nothing to keep the tides of fire at bay for long. He knew one solution, but feared going down that path, even if it was right there, in his flat, easily accessed. There was a note on the floor, “Read me.” He felt like Alice, already down the rabbit hole.

 

He read the note and spun the card in his hand. He knew the hand writing, knew she was still watching. Something about that was almost a comfort. He wasn’t sure why she thought he needed a girl, but he also sensed she was right. He just wasn’t sure what he needed her for.

 

* * *

She moved around her room silently. Silent was her constant companion. It helped her cope with what her life was. She’d not been forced or coerced into this, she chose it, but there were moments when her mind would get the better of her and make her doubt everything she was. Being alone, in the silence, was soothing. The light by her door lit and the file slide under her door. Time for work.

 

* * *

He had called. She knew he would. If it hadn’t been as bad as she thought it was, he would have thrown the card away without a second look. She just prayed she’d gotten it to him soon enough.

 

* * *

 

The call had been as non-descript as was to be expected. Nothing sounded committal. Nothing to tie them to anything that could be considered illegal. He could have unraveled it without getting off the couch, but that was unnecessary, for now he would go and see if she was right about what he needed.

 

The building was as innocuous as the as the card and the phone call. All white columns and brick. It was like her old homestead, posh but seemingly harmless.

 

He rang the bell and was greeted by a beautifully, warm faced woman in a well-tailored suit.

 

“Follow me please, we have some negotiations to discuss before your appointment.”

 

It was all business but not as cold and clinical as he had first expected. She led him into a small office off the foyer of the house and motioned to a comfortable looking chair.

 

“Now, we need to run down the menu and figure out who and what will work best for you. The fee has been covered by our mutual friend so, please don’t let the rates hinder your choices.”

 

She handed him a single sheet of cardstock, printed like the rate card of a spa and a small folder with a series of matte photos, one sheets for the available “talent” that awaited him after the negotiations.  He barely skimmed the card, if this was paid for why limit himself by choosing, he instead began to scan through the photos. There was the typical assortment; tarted up blond in tight leather, seductive professorial brunette, ginger nurse complete with hands mid glove snap. Boring. He flipped past them to the pictures of the opposite end of the spectrum, more of the same stereotypes; an insipid looking schoolgirl, a scantily clad secretary, a bratty harlot in an elaborately boring looking harness.

 

He was about to give up and walk out until he reached the last picture. She was different. Her body was in profile, curled on itself, wrapped loosely in a sheet, emulating the pose in Van Gogh’s “Sorrow” but without the nudity, the sheet draped to cover her modestly, her face mostly obscured by her arm. She was intriguing.

 

The choice was made.

 

* * *

The set up with this one was simple. The file had said he had selected the option to do anything and would have an hour with her. The only initial stipulation was for her to be waiting, standing in the center of the room, nude, wearing a blindfold. It didn’t even register as odd to her. She’d had far more elaborate requests.

 

She nodded at the attendant who assisted her and listened intently to them leave, folding her arms gracefully behind her back to hold her own wrists. Focusing on her own breath and the steady pulse against her fingers.

 

The door opened quietly, the gentle voice of the attendant telling her guest that at the end of the hour there would be a chime to let him know.

 

He thanked her in equally hushed tones, remaining by the door then in silence. Waiting, the time slowly ticking past.

 

She focused in on his breath, the dissonance with her own making her skin prickle.

 

He stared at her in the unerring silence, trying to read her. He hadn’t expected the effect seeing her would have. He had requested the set-up, wanting to her to be nude and focused so he could study her before he approached, but it ended up being more disarming than intended. Nude was not the right word. The other one had been nude when they had met, had carried that nudity like a weapon and armor in one, he’s seen nudity in many fashions and had never felt much for it, it was just a biological state in the end, but this was different. This girl, this unexpected girl, was not nude, she was naked. Her face and body scrubbed clean of makeup and pretense. It seemed delicate and easily broken, but even that was wrong, because in her line of work she had surely been broken and beaten, this fragility seemed like something much more deep and raw. What set him off his game was the overwhelming wave of desire to stop her from breaking. He thought for a moment he could no longer go through with anything with this girl.

 

He finally spoke, the words coming from with an edge of smooth detachment. “Why do you do this?”

 

She started at the sudden break in silence after what had felt like an eternity she answered. “It was what I needed.”

 

She felt him move toward her more than hear him, the movement in the still room like a breeze across her bare skin. She shivered.

 

“Does it frighten you?”

 

“Sometimes.” Her breath picked up at the sudden proximity of him, it wasn’t the warmth of someone ready to pounce, it was like a standing next to cool, shaded rock. She shivered again, trying to maintain her control and not move or flinch.

 

“Do I frighten you?”

 

“No, Sir.”

 

She took a deep breath as she felt his hand press to her chest, above her breast, the expanse of his spread hand running from collarbone to collarbone, feeling her breath. The silence resumed and she calmed, her breath slowing as the inevitable slight wave of panic she felt every time they touched her for the first time washed over her. In the silence their breath began to sync.

 

He broke the silence again. “Why is it now ‘was’? Is it no longer what you need?”

 

She thought before she answered, unnerved by his questions and the constant unyielding pressure of his hand on her. “Sometimes it is. Sometimes I think I wouldn’t know how to live without knowing it was waiting for me. The waiting makes it harder though, sometimes.”

 

“The waiting, yes, when it is just you and your mind. Alone with nothing else.”

 

“Silence helps.”

 

Nothing more was said after that, his hand remained on her chest in the soft white noise of their unified breathing.

 

The chime finally rang and he left.

 

* * *

 

She returned to her room. Shaken. She wasn’t sure why the minimalism of their time together made her feel both calm and frightened, she’d endured things that would make most blush, would make others cringe, but this, the simple act of a cool hand on her chest in her darkened silence, made her shiver. It was like some wall around her was cracking.

 

She shook it off and took a shower, seeking out warmth to erase the cool, lingering weight of him.

 

* * *

Back home, he felt oddly calm. His heart rate and breathing remained the same even steady stream that had washed over him as his hand settled into what had felt like its place on her chest. Though he knew it was impossible, he felt as if he could still feel her smooth skin on her palm.  He sat down and rubbed his hand over this own palm before settling back and placing the call to see her again the next day.

 

* * *

She knew it would help and that he would take a full package. She fought the urge to ask what he had requested and who he has seen, it felt like an invasion, but she did inquire from her old friend if he had arranged to come again. He had.

 

* * *

 

Their business skirted the edges of legality, they always had the wrong element trying to horn in. It was another one of those days. He arrived in all black with no appointment, asking to see the “Madam”. It was so passé, no one called her a “Madam” except the type of low rent criminal element that wanted to take over a successful business. She put on a suit and pulled her hair up into a tight, sleek bun and came downstairs when requested, sitting across from the two bit thug. “Thank you for visiting, but we are not interested in expanding our business at this time. Would you like tea before you leave, Sir?”

 

The large built blonde man let his face scrunch into a look of amused confusion. “I am not here to sway you, just to bring you a file, and let you decide. My boss has ideas that you may actually want to look into, so please don’t patronize me and assume I am with some sort of cash for protection operation. “He slid the file across the table to her. “And, yes, I’d love a cup.”

 

She opened the file and pulled out a single sheet of thick, richly cream colored paper. The top of the sheet read, “Don’t throw this out, it’s a genuine offer.” As she read on, it truly was, and for once, she was tempted to let someone else take over. Her ‘adventure’ with the mysterious man this afternoon had left her with an unerring sense of disquiet, like through his touch he had sapped out her silence and had also made her unable to shake him. His ghost still had a hand on her chest. She wanted to stay and get out all at once.

 

She peered over at the man, now sipping the tea her assistant and fetched for him. “Tell your boss I will consider this offer and be in touch.”

 

“He doesn't like to wait, he gets bored.”

 

She rose swiftly and crossed to leave. “I have nothing more to say. Good day, Sir.”

 

The man finished his tea in silence, watching the door she disappeared through briefly before letting his focus fall to the young woman who had brought him his tea. She stood silently at the door with her eyes lowered, waiting. He had doubted why his boss would want to get into this type of business, but now, it was starting to make sense.

 

* * *

 

He paced the room like a caged animal. She wasn’t free. She couldn’t, or perhaps wouldn’t see him. He’d never tell anyone that he feared things like this. Rejection. It shouldn’t bother him the way it did. He was above those kind of simple emotional fears. He just needed to see her again. To feel the warm steady beat that had tethered him to reality when he had been so adrift before.

 

It had been a horrible idea to go in the first place.

 

He waited on the line, hoping for some solution. She was away, if he could wait, she would be free again in two days. He could wait. For her.

 

* * *

 

She arranged a meeting. She shouldn’t even consider the offer given, but it was hard to turn away something so substantial. She wondered if it was real.

 

They met out of the country. She wanted to be on neutral soil. Her bodyguard stayed a polite but safe distance away as she sat in the open air café, taking in the beauty of Le Cote D'azur. He appeared as if by magic in front of her. Crisp designer suit and a demon’s grin. Sliding into the chair with the grace of a cat. He spoke as if they had been talking for hours. “I don’t want to take anything away from you, I just see this as an opportunity for both of us to expand something we mutually find interesting. It’s simply a matter of losing your puritanical discretion when I see someone of interest come to your agency.”

 

She took a long sip of her coffee. “That is the problem you see. My business is one built on trust and discretion. If I allow you to syphon off clientele for the purposed I am assuming you wish, we will no longer have a steady business. Word spreads quickly.”

 

He dipped his finger into the sugar bowl between them, sucking the sweetness from his finger. “Yeah, that is a problem, unless the people who I choose to deal with from your agency are no longer able to speak after I have attended to them. I am not an amateur. I have worked with others in your field, one you might even call a friend. She is a factor in why I am here. She told me about your operation a while ago, when she had to cease her own, I just needed some time to decide if you were right for my purposes.”

 

She knew almost instantly who he was referring to and planned on contacting her as soon as this meeting ended. Her dear friend had been sending a lot of unusual men her way lately. This was not good for business. “I assume you have already been watching the comings and goings at the agency.”

 

She looked slightly affronted as he rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid, of course I have. I already have someone I want the file for, but I will wait, until you are comfortable.” He rose and extended his hand. “Think about it, I’ll be in touch.”

 

She shook his hand and felt like she was selling her soul. “Good day.”

 

Everything about this felt like a horrible mistake. She called her dear friend. “I can’t keep doing this. How did you get out?”

 

“I had to disappear entirely to get out. To the world, I am dead. You’re that deep now. You have to work with him, he doesn’t accept a ‘no, thank you’. You will either have to disappear, or he will kill you. I’m sorry I ever let him know you were there.”

 

* * *

He waited in the sterile waiting room. No negotiation this time, no files, he requested the same as the previous encounter. Easy or it should be, something felt off. The attendant arrived shortly after, leading him to her. To his calm quiet place.

 

When he was alone with her, he could see the tension in her. Something was definitely wrong. She was shaking. He crossed the room quickly this time, placing his hand on her and whispering, “Are you okay?”

 

She took a deep breath and felt herself steady, feeling oddly grounded by her invisible anchor. “This isn’t about me, Sir.”

 

He withdrew his hand, taking a step back. “It is. This, I don’t know what this is, but the last time, you were here and it was not just me, you were in that place with me. Was I wrong?”

 

Her entire body sagged when he withdrew his hand. Deflating. “I’m sorry, Sir. I can’t talk about it, I’m sorry that I cannot be what you need.”

 

Their breath was not in sync, he was too far away, and she was adrift in the sea of darkness.

 

He watched her in silence. Watched as she tried to regain the air of comfortable submission she had possessed when he saw her the very first time. She was failing. After a moment he replaced his hand and felt her entire body relax into the touch. He had been right, this wasn’t just for him.

 

“You don’t need to tell me, I can see everything. Don’t worry.” He felt the smooth calm ebb and flow between them in the stillness that followed.

 

He was a little shocked when she spoke, barely above a whisper, “Thank you.”

 

Their time was up far too quickly.

 

* * *

He wanted the files for three clients. Maybe that would be enough. She complied.

 

The next week he wanted two more. She complied.

 

When he asked for four more the next week, she refused.

 

“I can’t just let you pick apart my clientele. I need some assurance before this can continue.”

 

“You want assurance, here you go, I assure you that if I have to ask more than once for what I want, your heart will end up as art decorating my living room.”

 

She swallowed the gasp that threatened to fly from her, trying to keep her voice steady. “I don’t appreciate threats. We have a business arrangement. I just want to ensure that the business stays sound.”

 

“I don’t make threats, darling woman, I am telling you, I get what I ask for, or you end up dead. It’s quite simple. I will send my man for the files in an hour.”

 

He hung up unceremoniously, leaving her shaking terribly. She looked at her schedule and took a deep breath, comforted to see that she only had one appointment that day. It could not come soon enough. She hated to admit it, but she needed his touch.

 

ooOOoo

 

He arrived to chaos. Something was beyond wrong. The front door stood open, girls on the street, looking lost and waiting anxiously.

 

He moved inside, all business. He knew these kind of scenes.

 

“You can’t be here.” The regular assistant said as he strode into the room, looking at every detail. Files were scattered on the floor. There was blood on the floor. “All appointments are cancelled, there has been an incident. GO!”

 

He could hear someone behind the door, crying and muttering and trying to remain calm. He moved past the woman and went toward the noise.

 

The attendant was on her knees over the form lying on the floor, pressing against her chest. It was her. She was dressed in a crisp blouse and black skirt, the shirt ripped open, the wound in her chest pulsing under the young man’s hand.

 

“Jesus.” He dropped beside her. “What happened?”

 

The young man shook his head. Unsure of what to do, just trying to hold himself together.

 

“I am a detective. I work with the police. Tell. Me. What. Happened.”

 

He relented. Explained that there was a man who had come to retrieve file about clients, that she had refused and he had shot her point blank in the chest before taking what he wanted and leaving. She was dying.

 

He moved his hand to her chest, letting it fall into its place. He realized he never even knew her name, not even a false one. He said the only thing he could think of, “Stay with me.”

 

He felt their breath and heartbeat fall into sync for a short moment before hers stopped.

 

She was gone, and he was adrift again, lost in the sea of fire.


End file.
